Learning to Stand Again
by Maura1
Summary: recovering from the quest in Minas Tirith, Frodo suffers a fall that destroys more than his physical health, but his hope and emotional being as well. A familiar face from Ithilien will help him heal and learn to live again. h/c, no slash, no profanity, p
1. Chapter 1

Learning to Stand Again  
  
Rating: G  
  
Summary: While recovering from the quest in Minas Tirith, Frodo suffers a fall that destroys more than his physical health, but his hope and emotional being as well. A familiar face from Ithilien will help him heal and learn to live again. h/c, no slash, no profanity, post-quest.  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters nor am I making any money off of them. They belong to Tolkien, who is a greater writer than I'll ever be.  
  
A/N: This story is dedicated with much love to my dear big sis Febobe who is responsible for my h/c obsession, who has been a friend to me through weather foul and fair, and for calling me Poppet. Thanks dear; your friendship means the world to me.  
  
Chapter 1:  
  
Frodo pushed his plate of half-eaten food away and sighed. After Minas Tirith had been restored to some sense of order and most of the wounded had recovered beyond the point of needing the healing powers of the King, the people of Rohan and Gondor a begun a series of celebrations in honor of the new King and the fall of the Dark Lord.  
  
As the Ringbearer, Frodo had been forced to attend nearly all of these feasts. Aragorn and the other members of the Fellowship thought it necessary for him to be present so the people could see and honor the one responsible for the destruction of the Ring, but he had been excused from a few feasts because of the illness and weakness he had been experiencing since his and Sam's rescue from the Mountain of Fire.  
  
Unfortunately, Aragorn had seen him walking about outside today, obviously feeling well enough to attend the banquet being held that night. Frodo had attempted to talk Aragorn into letting him retire early, but Aragorn was adamant that Frodo be there so everyone could come to appreciate how much he had sacrificed for their benefit. Frodo had finally given in and agreed to come, silently praying that the celebrating would end soon.  
  
At the start of the feast, Frodo had felt fine, a bit grouchy, but not ill. Now he had taken a bad turn. He felt nauseous and chilled. His lower back was aching terribly. All he wanted was to lie down in a warm bed and rest, and maybe get a hot water bottle for his back.  
  
Deciding that he had stayed long enough, Frodo stood from the long table and slipped through the large crowd of people gathered. He wasn't too happy about having to walk down to the house he, Gandalf, and the other Hobbits had been sharing by himself, but if he asked someone to assist him then it would surely get back to Aragorn that he wasn't feeling well. That could only lead to one thing: medicine. He'd been subjected to every foul-tasting brew and tonic Gondor had to offer in the previous weeks, and he didn't look forward to anymore of Aragorn's 'medicines.'  
  
Stepping outside, he shivered against the night chill and drew his cloak tightly about himself. He sincerely hoped that a warm fire awaited him. Giving himself a moment before attempting to navigate the many stairs leading down to the garden below, he looked out over the city. He could see the road on the far side of the garden.  
  
He began making his way unsteadily down the steps, regretting that he had not at least asked Sam to accompany him. Each time he stepped down, the distance between his foot and the next step seemed to change. Sometimes it seemed forever before his foot found the next step; other times the step came rushing up to meet him. This resulted in him staggering down the steps rather awkwardly as he tried to bring the world back into focus.  
  
*****  
  
The garden itself was full of chattering and lively folk, all enjoying the night air. Faramir, Captain of Gondor, was striding up the walkway greeting couples as he walked by. He had just escorted the Lady Eowyn back to her quarters for the night. As he approached the stairs leading back into the banquet hall, he beheld a strange sight.  
  
Frodo was coming down the stairs, but he was obviously having a difficult time. His body was limp, and he was dragging each foot. He lifted a foot to step down, then brought it down on the same stair he was already on. Then he brought the other foot up, but as he stepped down he missed the next step entirely, landing two steps down from where he had been. This continued as Frodo stumbled to and fro on the stairs. He was now nearly to the bottom.  
  
Faramir mused to himself, wondering if Frodo had perhaps taken more drink than was good for him. Perhaps he wasn't used to the strong brews that men drank. They certainly weren't meant for over consumption by such a small person.  
  
Suddenly, Frodo's legs folded beneath him, and he fell, tumbling down to land in a heap at the foot of the stairs. Faramir gasped and rushed forward to help him. Several others in the garden rushed over as well.  
  
*****  
  
After the initial shock wore off, the pain set in. Frodo decided that it might be better to lie still for a moment to recover. He heard footsteps coming toward him from different directions. Now someone was leaning over him and asking if he was alright.  
  
"Faramir?" Frodo attempted to push himself into a sitting position, but a flare of pain in his back forced him to lie still again.  
  
"Frodo, are you unwell?" Faramir leaned over him, his face pale in the moonlight.  
  
"Faramir, I." Frodo's voice broke off as he fought off the urge to throw up.He turned his head and rolled himself onto his side. The movement caused pain to rip through his back again, and he cried out, clutching Faramir's outstretched hand.  
  
"Lie still, Frodo. Where is the pain?" Faramir gently stroked the dark curls back from Frodo's face. Frodo looked up at him pleadingly, his blue eyes glazed over with pain.  
  
"My back! It hurts so much! I feel as though I can't move." Frodo broke off, shaking terribly. A wave of nausea broke over him, and he retched, vomiting all over himself. Faramir continued stroking his head soothingly while he wiped Frodo's mouth and chin clean with a handkerchief.  
  
Frodo breathed in deep, unsteady gasps as he tried to get a grip on what was going on. He could feel the encroaching darkness descending. He felt the ground beneath him disappear, and he was falling. The world slipped away in a swirl of colors, lights, and voices.  
  
TBC 


	2. Chapter 2

Learning to Stand Again  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Summary: While recovering from the quest in Minas Tirith, Frodo suffers a fall that destroys more than his physical health, but his hope and emotional being as well. A familiar face from Ithilien will help him heal and learn to live again. h/c, no slash, no profanity, post-quest.  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters nor am I making any money off of them. They belong to Tolkien, who is a greater writer than I'll ever be.  
  
Warnings: This chapter and future chapters may contain references to wee hobbit sickness, injury, treatment of said sickness and injury, as well as references to wee hobbit bodily functions. I will be sure to up the rating if I include anything seriously graphic, but, for the most part, it shouldn't be of an extremely graphic nature.  
  
A/N: Thanks goes out to Febobe for giving me a great idea of how to make Frodo suffer. Love ya, dear!  
  
Chapter 2:  
  
When consciousness crept slowly back into Frodo's mind, he was pleased to take note of how comfortable he felt. The pillows around his head were fluffed and soft. The quilts around him were thick and warm. The bed seemed to cradle his body. Taking a deep breath, he reveled in the morning air he could feel drifting in through a nearby window. He felt so calm, so relaxed. There was no pain, no headaches, and no aches of any kind. He felt.practically nothing.  
  
Frodo felt like a bucket of ice water had been poured onto the bed. He came back to reality suddenly and sat upright, or he would have set upright if not for the terrible pain in his back and the lack of response from his legs. He couldn't hold back a whimper.  
  
"Just lie still, Frodo, or you'll only make your injuries worse," Aragorn's face swam into view above him, looking tired and grief-stricken.  
  
"Aragorn? What happened? I remember falling down the stairs, and Faramir was there."  
  
"Faramir brought you here to the Healing House and sent word to me of your accident. Frodo, I'm sorry that I insisted that you be present yesterday. If you hadn't, this would never have happened. I see now that I've been wearing you out, when you haven't yet recovered from the wounds and memories of your journey. Please forgive me," Aragorn knelt by his bedside, taking Frodo's mangled right hand into his own. Frodo could see Aragorn's eyes shimmering with unshed tears.  
  
He swallowed back tears of his own before speaking, "It is all right, Aragorn. It's not your fault. I should have asked for help, but my pride prevented me from coming to you or anyone else because I wanted you to stop fussing over me. I'm sorry for being such a burden to you." "Oh Frodo, you're not a burden to me at all," Aragorn smiled, the tears now running freely down his face. Frodo looked up at him and suddenly his vision changed.  
  
Instead of Strider, the rugged and mysterious man he had met in Bree, he saw Aragorn as the King of Gondor. His robes seemed to glow with an ethereal light, not like the Elves, but something else. The tears that streamed down his face caught the sunlight gleaming through the window and glittered like diamonds. In his eyes, Frodo saw a love and compassion that was undying and unconditional.  
  
It was as though Strider, like Gandalf the Gray, had died, and here he was resurrected as Aragorn, the King of Gondor as Gandalf had been sent back as Gandalf the White. Aragorn reached up to wipe tears from Frodo's cheeks, tears he hadn't been aware of, sliding down his face as he marveled at Aragorn's transformation from a man into a king.  
  
And then the moment was over. Frodo leaned back into the pillows, sniffling quietly while he tried to assess the damage done when he had fallen down the stairs. Aragorn stood up and looked at him for a moment before crossing the room and going through with some jars on the far table.  
  
Frodo experimentally tried moving one of his numb legs. It seemed to twitch, but didn't move. The fact that his legs now felt numb instead of feeling nothing at all was an improvement from when he had first awoken.  
  
Aragorn returned to the bedside, "Here, I have a tonic for you to drink, Frodo. This will help with the pain in your back. I need you to drink it, and then I'm going to have another look at you."  
  
Frodo complied wearily, allowing Aragorn to tip the contents of the cup into his mouth. It had a bitter-sweet taste, not as bad as most of the medicines Aragorn fixed for him. Within moments he seemed to feel more relaxed; it was almost as though he were floating on a cloud. He felt so detached from his body that he was barely aware of Aragorn's fingers running through his hair as he spoke, "Alright, Frodo. Now I'm going to have to roll you over so I can have a look at your back. How are you feeling? Faramir said you were unwell after the party."  
  
Aragorn pulled the covers back and gently slipped an arm under Frodo to brace his back. Frodo then became aware that a bandage and cloth were wrapped very tightly around his abdomen. There was a bit of pain in his back as Aragorn turned him over to lie on his stomach, but Frodo was feeling so blissfully high that he didn't really care.  
  
"I'm feeling alright now," Frodo replied, his voice seeming to come from another person in the room rather than from his own mouth. It felt like Aragorn was dragging a cloth back and forth across his back. A moment later, Aragorn pulled the bandage away, and Frodo noticed that Aragorn's arm was underneath him, supporting his body.  
  
"I'm not feeling much to tell you the truth."  
  
"You mean you're not feeling any pain?" Aragorn crossed the room and retrieved a small bottle containing some kind of salve.  
  
"I don't feel anything really." Frodo's voice faltered. He felt as though he were in a dream. Yes, that must be it. That would explain why his body wasn't responding to his commands. When he woke up, everything would work just fine.  
  
Now Aragorn was rubbing something on his back. It was cold at first, but gradually warmed up under his fingers. Frodo tried to stay quiet as a sharp pain throbbed in his back every time Aragorn ran his fingers over one spot. The salve felt good, but a prickling sensation remained. Had he hurt his back when he fell? Aragorn was speaking again.  
  
".and it looks like it might be fractured; it's bruised and swollen right here," Aragorn punctuated this statement by lightly brushing a point on Frodo's back.  
  
The affects of the medicine Aragorn had administered to him were starting to wear off. The dreamlike state was diminishing, and Frodo realized that he could move most of his body after all. His legs were mostly unresponsive, but he could feel them twitch slightly.  
  
"My legs.I can't really move them," Frodo craned his neck to look up at Aragorn who was starting to redress the wound on his back.  
  
Aragorn looked up sharply.  
  
"You can't move them at all?" he asked anxiously.  
  
"Mm, there is some feeling in them. Just a little, but they don't want to move," Frodo tried to wiggle them, but the effort was a bit tiring, so he stopped.  
  
Aragorn stroked Frodo's hair gently, "If you have some feeling in them, you should be alright, but we'll have to be careful just the same. You won't be able to get out of this bed or sit up until I am completely satisfied that you're healed. You really should restrain your movement. We don't want you doing any further damage. Are you still feeling alright? You feel a bit feverish."  
  
Frodo sighed, "I'm tired. I wish to rest now."  
  
Aragorn kissed the top of his head gently, "Let me finish putting this bandage on and you can."  
  
Moments later, Frodo felt himself slipping off into a troubled sleep in which he was continuously dragging himself up a mountain face, his legs refusing to move. Above him, the Nazgul cried.  
  
TBC 


	3. Chapter 3

Learning to Stand Again  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Summary: While recovering from the quest in Minas Tirith, Frodo suffers a fall that destroys more than his physical health, but his hope and emotional being as well. A familiar face from Ithilien will help him heal and learn to live again. h/c, no slash, no profanity, post-quest.  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters nor am I making any money off of them. They belong to Tolkien, who is a greater writer than I'll ever be.  
  
Warnings: This chapter and future chapters may contain references to wee hobbit sickness, injury, treatment of said sickness and injury, as well as references to wee hobbit bodily functions. I will be sure to up the rating if I include anything seriously graphic, but, for the most part, it shouldn't be of an extremely graphic nature.  
  
A/N: Thanks goes out to Febobe for giving me a great idea of how to make Frodo suffer. Love ya, dear!  
  
Chapter 3:  
  
"How is he doing?"  
  
"He was doing well when I left him earlier, but when I returned he was tossing and turning fitfully; his rest was disturbed by nightmares. Now he's burning up with fever, but I'm not exactly sure why. It could be attributed to his injury. Unfortunately, the best way to bring his temperature down would require bathing him, and I don't want to put that kind of strain on his back," Aragorn said as he checked Frodo's rising temperature once again.  
  
Faramir adjusted the covers around Frodo's shivering form, "What else can you do for him, then?"  
  
"I'll prepare some Ginger tea for him. We'll have to wake him, I suppose."  
  
"Can we let him rest just a little longer?" Faramir looked pityingly at the small form curled beneath the blankets, "He looks quite exhausted."  
  
"No, we'd better not wait. He can rest afterwards. I'll give him something to help him sleep. I'll be back in a moment," Aragorn said resolutely as he turned and left the room, his robe billowing out like a banner behind him.  
  
Faramir turned back to Frodo. Seating himself on the edge of the bed, he gently began trying to coax the Hobbit out of sleep.  
  
"Frodo?" he whispered softly. "It's time to wake up, Frodo."  
  
Reaching down, he ran a finger along one pointed ear, stroking dark curls with his thumb.  
  
"Mmmmm..." Frodo opened his eyes wearily and blinked up at Faramir. His face was dominated by those enormous blue eyes. Faramir was struck by how young and childlike Frodo seemed lying in the bed, the confusion of sleep still upon him.  
  
"Aragorn is going to bring some tea for you to drink, then you can go back to sleep."  
  
"No, I don't think I could drink anything. I feel very ill, Faramir," Frodo whispered, squeezing his eyes shut. He felt Faramir's cool hand brush his forehead lightly. Shivering, he jerked his head away. His back was aching terribly. There was a sharp, throbbing pain about midway down. He could feel his stomach churning. Any moment now he was going to throw up, right in front of Faramir.  
  
"Oh, I think I'm going to be sick Faramir; bring me a bowl!" Frodo moaned weakly.  
  
He heard Faramir cross the room, but he wasn't quick enough. Unable to sit up or roll over, Frodo vomited over his front. Choking, he coughed and spat out pieces of undigested food, and the coughing only served to hurt his back. He didn't think it was possible to feel so miserable. Faramir was by his side again, apologizing profusely and wiping his face with a wet cloth.  
  
"What's happened?" Aragorn's voice penetrated the room sharply.  
  
"He's been ill, my liege. I wasn't able to brink him a bowl or a chamber pot in time, I'm afraid," Faramir pulled the soiled covers off of Frodo's body. "It looks as though we'll have to find some way to bathe him now."  
  
Aragorn considered the situation for a moment, before setting down the tray of herbs and heated water he was carrying, "We'll give him a gentle sponge bath in the bed, then we'll change the bedclothes, but first let me give him some of this ginger tea."  
  
Frodo opened his mouth to protest, but Aragorn silenced him by saying, "Don't worry, Frodo. I'm going to give you some ginger tea. It will help bring your fever down, and it will soothe your nausea."  
  
Slipping a hand behind Frodo's head, Aragorn gently tipped the contents of the cup down Frodo's throat. Its warmth eased the chill of Frodo's body, and he couldn't be sure, but he thought he could taste something else mixed in with the ginger. It didn't matter, though, as he soon found himself completely relaxed.  
  
"Now let's get you out of this nightshirt. We're going to give you a quick bath, and then you'll be able to rest again," Aragorn said as he pulled out each arm in turn and gently slipped the shirt over Frodo's head. "Faramir, please go ask one of the maids to fetch up a bucket of water. Have her heat it a bit; tepid water will be best." Faramir nodded his ascent and bowed himself out of the room.  
  
"Now let me take another look at your back before I bathe you."  
  
Aragorn gently rolled Frodo onto his stomach and cut away the bandages, "How does it feel, Frodo?"  
  
"It hurts terribly."  
  
Aragorn could see why. Around midway down his spinal column, Frodo had terrible bruising and swelling. There could be no doubt that one of the vertebrae was fractured. What disturbed Aragorn was the large amount of pus that seemed to be building up around the point where the fracture must be. Pus indicated an infection, which would make treatment and recovery more trying.  
  
"It definitely looks like a fracture to me, Frodo, and it looks infected, too. I'm going to have to find some herbs to treat this with after your bath."  
  
Frodo only sighed, closing his eyes. After a moment, Aragorn could tell that he was lightly dozing. He began going over a list of herbs in his head as he waited for Faramir to return with the bathwater.  
  
TBC 


	4. Chapter 4

Learning to Stand Again  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Summary: While recovering from the quest in Minas Tirith, Frodo suffers a fall that destroys more than his physical health, but his hope and emotional being as well. A familiar face from Ithilien will help him heal and learn to live again. h/c, no slash, no profanity, post-quest.  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters nor am I making any money off of them. They belong to Tolkien, who is a greater writer than I'll ever be.  
  
Warnings: This chapter and future chapters may contain references to wee hobbit sickness, injury, treatment of said sickness and injury, as well as references to wee hobbit bodily functions. I will be sure to up the rating if I include anything seriously graphic, but, for the most part, it shouldn't be of an extremely graphic nature.  
  
A/N: Thanks goes out to Febobe for giving me a great idea of how to make Frodo suffer. Love ya, dear!  
  
Chapter 4:  
  
Frodo was woken from a feverish dream in which Aragorn was trying to force weeds down his throat and Faramir was continuously rolling a stone over his back, both saying over and over that it would help with the pain.  
  
The reality, thought different from the dream, brought similar feelings. Aragorn had only just woken him, and he was already trying to coax Frodo to drink some vile concoction. After forcing some down and getting a face full in return, Aragorn gave Frodo the cup to let him take it as he chose. Faramir wasn't rolling a stone over his back, but Frodo was still feeling every one of those stairs he had fallen down as his back throbbed.  
  
Sipping at the medicine Aragorn had given him, Frodo made a wry face, "Did you wake me just for this?"  
  
Aragorn laughed, "No, Faramir and I are going to give you a little sponge bath to clean you up; then we'll redress your bed so you can rest comfortably again. That is just a little something I made up to help with the pain. I'm sorry I couldn't make it taste any nicer. Hurry up and drink it."  
  
Frodo grudgingly obliged him and began sipping at the cup again. A knock at the door announced the return of Faramir, who entered the room carrying a small bucket of warm, steaming water. A maid followed behind him bringing white towels, clean sheets for the bed, and a new nightshirt for Frodo to sleep in. Aragorn took them from her and excused her.  
  
"We can't really bathe you because of your back, Frodo, so we're just going to clean you with sponges while you lie in bed. How does that sound?" Aragorn removed the pillows from the bed and laid out a folded towel for Frodo to rest his head upon.  
  
Frodo hesitated, glancing at Faramir, who was standing on the opposite side of the room. "Surely the task of cleaning me up only requires one, Aragorn."  
  
Aragorn gave Frodo a knowing smile, "It will be easier if I have someone present to assist me. He will need to support your back while I bathe your wound."  
  
Frodo started to counter this, but stopped. Hopefully it would be over soon.  
  
"Faramir, please add those athelas leaves I've prepared to the water."  
  
Faramir brought over the bucket of water. The smell of the athelas wafting out of the bucket was very soothing to Frodo. He found himself relaxing into the towel he lay on; maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.  
  
"I believe the water is just the right temperature for him," Faramir noted, dipping his hand into the water.  
  
Aragorn nodded and retrieved two sponges from the bedside table. "You bathe his legs while I get his face and chest."  
  
It was rather relaxing to lay there in bed being bathed by warm, healing water with soft sponges. Aragorn gently cleansed Frodo's face first, carefully rinsing around his mouth and chin.  
  
Faramir seemed at a loss. He kept reaching out to Frodo's right foot, but seemed quite taken aback by the large, hairy appendage. Frodo smiled and wiggled his toes coaxingly at him. Faramir couldn't help but grin back. He took Frodo's foot into his hand and began to run the sponge gently up and down the sole. Frodo giggled when Faramir began cleaning between his toes with a vigor he himself never had.  
  
Soon, the two men had gone over nearly every inch of him. All that was left was his back. Aragorn wanted to wash the place of the infection.  
  
Faramir sat beside Frodo and gently lifted his torso up, slipping an arm beneath his shoulders for support. He was careful to keep Frodo's back straight so as not to disturb the fracture. Frodo thought to himself that it must not have been too serious of a break if they were putting him in an upright position and risking disturbing the bones.  
  
Frodo hissed softly as the sponge came into contact with the wound on his back. He heard Aragorn muttering softly to himself in a worried tone. Frodo had only to endure the pain for a moment longer before Faramir laid him down again.  
  
"There we are, Frodo. Now Faramir and I are going to move you for a moment so we can change the bed clothes. I want to have one more look at your back before you go back to sleep, though."  
  
Taking the ends of the towel Frodo was resting upon, Aragorn and Faramir gently lifted him from the bed and laid him down upon a small couch on the opposite end of the room.  
  
Frodo held his breath to allow the pain in his back to reside. Moving him had caused it to flare up suddenly. Trying to take his mind off of the pain, he looked out of the window into the courtyard outside. He could see it was a beautiful day. If he hadn't been so clumsy coming down those stairs, he could be outside enjoying it with this friends. That brought a sudden realization to Frodo's mind.  
  
"Aragorn, where are Sam and the others?"  
  
Aragorn spread one of the sheets over the bed before turning to Frodo, "They'll be up to see you later today if you're feeling up to it. Everyone came to see you after your fall, but I asked them to give you some peace until you were feeling better. Are you?"  
  
Frodo thought a moment. He was still feeling some nausea, and his fever definitely wasn't gone, but he desperately wanted to see Sam and his cousins.  
  
"I'm feeling alright."  
  
"Then I'll tell them to come and see you later," Aragorn promised, turning back to the bed.  
  
Soon Faramir and Aragorn had Frodo back on the bed and Aragorn was examining his back once again. Faramir had left to attend to his other duties as Captain of the King's guard.  
  
"Well, Frodo, I must say I am relieved. This fracture isn't too serious. It's a compression fracture, which can often lead to paralysis, but the spinal cord itself hasn't been damaged as far as I can tell. I know you can't move your legs now, but I firmly believe that once this heals you'll be fine. The fact that you can feel you legs at all is comforting. But this infection is another matter. You're still running quite a high fever, and it's looking very nasty. Is it still hurting?"  
  
"Yes," Frodo admitted. His back was hurting, quite a lot actually. "To be honest, Aragorn, I don't have nearly as much feeling in my legs as I did earlier. They felt numb earlier, now I hardly feel them at all."  
  
Aragorn frowned. Reaching down, he took one of Frodo's legs in his hands. He tapped the knee gently. When no response was forthcoming, he tried the other leg. Nothing.  
  
"Frodo, can you feel me touching your legs?"  
  
"Maybe a little. When you moved them there was a prickling sensation, like when your foot is asleep," Frodo said. He was beginning to get worried. Aragorn had gone from saying that he would be fine to looking very upset and saying nothing at all. The silence in the room seemed to bear down on him. He watched Aragorn, waiting for some form of reassurance.  
  
At last Aragorn spoke, "Frodo, I think I'm going to have to take a look at that fracture from the inside."  
  
TBC 


	5. Chapter 5

Learning to Stand Again  
  
Rating: PG to PG-13  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters nor am I making any money off of them. They belong to Tolkien, who is a greater writer than I'll ever be.  
  
Warnings: This chapter and future chapters may contain references to wee hobbit sickness, injury, treatment of said sickness and injury, as well as references to wee hobbit bodily functions. I will be sure to up the rating if I include anything seriously graphic, but, for the most part, it shouldn't be of an extremely graphic nature. If you are suffering from an injury similar to this you should see a licensed professional for treatment. The methods for surgery and treatment given in this chapter should not be attempted by anyone who is not a licensed professionl.  
  
A/N: Thanks goes out to Febobe for giving me a great idea of how to make Frodo suffer. Love ya, dear!  
  
Chapter 5:  
  
For what seemed like the hundredth time, Frodo leaned his head up to peer at Aragorn, who was busy concocting what was sure to be yet another vile medicine.  
  
Frodo had tried sleeping, but after Aragorn's words he found he just couldn't relax. When Aragorn had said "from the inside" he could only have meant one thing: he was going to have to cut into Frodo's back. Frodo had never enjoyed the thought of someone having surgery. The thought of Aragorn cutting into his back made him sick.   
  
Now suffering from a severe bout of nausea brought on by these disturbing images, Frodo tried to get comfortable. This was complicated by the fact the he really couldn't move.   
  
His back was hurting now, more than ever, and he had a strange sensation around the area of the fracture as thought he was laying on something hot.   
  
Aragorn had given him more medicine for the pain in his back, but it wasn't having any affect whatsoever. Still, he reasoned, feeling pain in his back was better than no feeling at all which would have signified a more serious break in his spinal column.   
  
A soft knock at the door announced the arrival of Faramir. Frodo idly wondered why he kept popping in. He had been rather cool with Faramir after what happened in Ithilien, yet Faramir didn't seem to mind. On the contrary, he seemed to be trying his best to make it up to Frodo. Perhaps that was why he kept coming to assist Aragorn. Frodo suddenly found himself feeling a little more at ease.  
  
"Faramir, I'm glad you've come. I'll need some assistance with what I'm about to do, "Aragorn greeted him solemnly. "I'm going to have to get a look at that fracture in Frodo's back, so I'll have to cut in. You can assist me."  
  
Faramir gave Frodo a pitying look before turning to the table of herbs and medicines Aragorn was working at. "What shall I do?"  
  
"Administer this to Frodo. It should help him to rest while we do the surgery," Aragorn handed Faramir a cup.  
  
Nodding, Faramir brought the cup over to Frodo, who eyed it with unease. Taking it from Faramir, he sipped cautiously. Deciding that it wasn't too bad, Frodo quickly drained the cup.   
  
After waiting a moment and not feeling any affect whatsoever, Frodo settled himself grumpily against the pillow, "It's not working."  
  
Aragorn turned around, an amused smile playing around his lips, "It will take a few minutes, Frodo."  
  
Frodo hmphed to himself and pulled the covers up tightly to his chin. The thought of having his back cut up was definitely not agreeing with him.   
  
Slowly, the affects of the medicine came over him. He could feel a numbness creeping into his mind as he grew steadily drowsier. Finally, with a last look at Faramir, Frodo drifted off to sleep.  
  
"Hopefully that will keep him asleep while we do the surgery. Let us proceed," Aragorn brought a rolled up cloth and a bowl of Athelas leaves soaking in heated water over to the bedside nightstand.  
  
Unrolling the cloth, he revealed a carefully cleaned knife, a small needle, and a length of very fine thread.   
  
Gently, the two of them turned Frodo onto his stomach and removed his nightshirt. Aragorn cut the dressing on the wound and set right to work.  
  
Faramir grimaced at the site of the wound. The area around the wound had turned bright red and was full of pus.  
  
"First we'll need to drain the area of the infection. Be ready with a cloth to clean it up as I pour this Athelas water over the area," Aragorn instructed as he made ready to cut. He made a small incision in the middle of the infection. Immediately, the swollen infection site began to drain a thin yellow colored pus occasionally flecked with spots of red.   
  
"Is that blood?" Faramir looked concerned.  
  
"It is. It's not uncommon."  
  
Faramir carefully wiped all of the liquid up as Aragorn poured the water and Athelas over the site of the infection. After several minutes the wound was relatively clean.  
  
"We'll have to keep an eye on that to make sure it doesn't come back," said Aragorn as he made a wider and deeper incision. "Now let's have a look at this bone.  
  
Faramir dabbed at the blood that was now oozing out of the cut. As Aragorn parted the flesh he caught site of the fracture. The bones didn't appear to have fallen out of alignment, which was a good sign.   
  
"Hmm, it's a compression fracture. It appears stable; it should require a healing period of about six weeks. I don't like the look of this bone, though. It looks like the infection has started inside the bone and spread outward. Look, the bone itself is filled with pus." Aragorn indicated a point in the break was more yellow liquid was seeping out. "That can lead to an abscess which will deprive the bone of blood."  
  
"What kind of treatment will we need to administer for an infection like this?" Faramir asked.  
  
Aragorn thought carefully, "I know some excellent herb combinations that will help to clear up the infection and to clean the blood. I also know of a salve that can be applied to the skin where an abscess is forming that should help. There's nothing we can do inside. The bone doesn't need to be set. As long as we are careful when moving him and keep a tight dressing on him it should heal correctly."   
  
Faramir cleansed the wound once more with the Athelas water before Aragorn began to stitch it up. They redressed the wound and carefully turned Frodo back over.   
  
"I'm sure that must be a painful infection," Faramir remarked. "He's running a fever."  
  
"Faramir, can I ask you to stay with him? I need a rest, but I don't want to leave him alone."  
  
"I will stay and watch over him. Shall I call on you if his condition worsens or shall I retrieve one of the healers?"  
  
"Send for me. I have faith in our healers, but I wish to treat him myself. I feel responsible for his wounds," replied Aragorn. He stroked a wayward curl out of the Ringbearer's pale face before leaving the room.  
  
Faramir sighed softly, slipping his hand into Frodo's. Frodo had suffered so much already. He didn't deserve this.   
  
TBC 


End file.
